It Wasn't Laura
by Regency
Summary: Tracy wouldn’t have been nearly as forgiving as Laura.


Author: Regency

Title: It Wasn't Laura

Rating: PG

Characters: Tracy, Luke

Warning: discussion of rape and child death

Summary: Tracy wouldn't have been nearly as forgiving as Laura.

Author's Notes: AU, this rewrites GH history. The writers do it and I thought it'd be fun.

Disclaimer: Not mine, at all, at all. Except Roger.

* * *

She'd seen him again today. It haunted her, that night at the disco. The fact that Luke Spencer had the nerve to show his face in this town scared her, though it shouldn't have. Hadn't she been a joke for years? Hadn't her family?

Her rapist had met her in the Metro Court lobby and looked into her eyes. No, he hadn't spoken but he didn't stride away either. He'd lingered as he passed as if he was unsure how he knew her. She'd seen it dawn on him and, then, he did move away, quite fast actually.

She had forced herself not to follow him, not to call him out for what he was. She hadn't want to. She didn't want her vengeance that way, but she did want it. She wanted it for herself, for her humiliation at his hands and at her father's. It was too late to hurt Daddy; mother's loss had nearly undone him as it had undone Tracy. However, it wasn't too late to bring Luke to his knees.

She would do it for the child she'd agonized over for seven months before going into premature labor and losing anyway. For her shame in the eyes of Port Charles. She was raped and somehow it was her own fault. She was damn near ruined. It wasn't long before her next banishment. She thought it had less to do with her infraction and more to do with the pointed glances and the whispers. She was a disgrace.

There was a long period of drinking and other unsavory vices she'd used to hide from her grief. She'd had everything taken from her. Living hardly seemed worth the effort.

Until there was there was Roger, darling Roger, the man she would come to call her husband. He had found her in her pathetic stupor and lugged her from it, telling her repeatedly how much better than it she was, and kissing her sweat soaked brow through detox and withdrawal. It was because of him that she hadn't had a drop of alcohol in years. His touch was intoxicating enough.

She shivered on the docks at dusk as she considered his reaction. He had never been judgmental when it came to her rape. He'd never blamed her or remarked on someone else having had her first. He didn't seem to care, and yet, she feared telling him about her encounter today. She'd never had the inclination to keep something from him before. Not since discovering she was pregnant with their first child together, at least. She smiled at her own recollection.

She paced the floor of their penthouse nervously for the entire hour between his plane landing and his car arriving in front of their building. She felt his nearness growing and covered her lower abdomen protectively and purposefully, hoping to hide what could not yet be seen.

They hadn't spoken about children. Between her recovery and their rejoining the business landscape, there hadn't been time. And they weren't exactly cautious when they rolled into bed together, aroused with triumph and the smell of fortune. She was praying-yes, praying-that she wouldn't regret the oversight.

She was already a mess of hormones and she'd only found out a day ago. It was the first time she'd wanted a drink so badly she almost took one.

She hadn't bothered to dress for his homecoming. She was far too high-strung to attempt fashion or seduction. Besides, it would all be for naught if he blew his top and decided to divorce her. The mere thought sent her into what had to be her sixth fit of tears for the day.

That was the state he found her in when he entered his home to find his wife sobbing on the off-white carpet in her pajamas. He dropped his luggage and rushed to her side, taking her in his arms in an attempt to comfort her.

"Baby, what's wrong? What's happened?" His inquiries only made her hysterics worse. "Please, don't cry." He looked around desperately for help and found none. "Do you want your mother? Do you want me to call Lila?"

Tracy shook her head and laid it on his shoulder, seeking the comfort she knew she would find.

"Tell me, darling. It can't be that bad. Come on," he cajoled. "You're keeping me in suspense."

She sniffled a while before gathering herself and pulling away. Disinherited or not, she was Quartermaine and they did not snivel. She pushed herself to her feet and combed her fingers through her unruly hair.

Her husband followed, mystified at this woman he didn't recognize.

"Tracy," he called after her.

She spun around, her hands clasped behind her in a fine imitation of a guilty parochial school girl with hot pink painted nails.

"I'm pregnant, Roger." She stated, her chin raised defiantly and bravely.

She watched his face transform from fear to the most incredible expression of joy she'd ever witnessed. He came to her and lifted her off the floor into his arms to spin her in a tight circle while kissing her face.

"I love you so much. You cannot possibly comprehend the depth of my love for you at this moment."

She laughed and held tight to him.

"I think I can."

He carried her to their bedroom and removed her pajamas quickly, letting her know how stylish he found her in her best dress-nothing at all.

Tracy sighed, covering her face with her hands and praying for rain. She needed a sign of some sort telling her that this was right. She hated keeping things from her husband, the man who'd helped her believe in soul mates and destiny. She'd never doubted they were destined for each other. Still, she couldn't allay the fear that this had the power to undo them.

She turned as footsteps descended the stairs behind her and realized that this was the not her day at all. Luke Spencer halted on the second to last step and came to the same conclusion.

It was a toss-up as to which of them got the first word out. Luke tried to gracelessly scoot away and Tracy wasn't quite ready to let him off the hook. Perhaps it was the masochist in her, perhaps it was the fear of what sleep would bring her tonight.

"I think you have a lot of nerve showing up here."

Luke held his hands up in acquiescence.

"I had no idea you still lived here. I didn't come to do you any harm. I'm just here to see my kids and I happen to be on this dock because I needed to time to think on my run-in with you."

Whether or not she believed him, it didn't show. She had an unforgiving expression in the best of times. He didn't get her best.

"I don't want to see you again. I don't want to run into you. If I do, I don't want you to so much as look at me. You have no right."

He planted his hands on his waist and looked down to the old worn boards of the boardwalk.

"Fine."

Tracy stood to leave by the farther exit. She didn't trust him at her back, but it was the lesser of both evils. Retreat or face him further.

"Tracy."

She halted, but didn't turn to acknowledge him.

"Please don't tell my kids. They don't know." It was a plea to her better nature and it made her hate him more for being as human as she.

"You should tell them before someone else does." She couldn't have named it as a threat herself, but she knew it came across as one.

"I was young. That shouldn't color me for the rest of my life."

She did turn at that.

"And yet, it colors me. How is that fair?"

He stuck his hands the pockets of his jeans.

"It isn't, but I can't be responsible for what people think. They think I'm trash. I can either live up to that or live beyond it. You've always had the same choices."

"Evidently." She shifted from one foot to the other uncomfortably. "I have had a good life, Luke Spencer, and it did not come easy and no thanks to you. I've lost a lot. We share a bond, in spite of everything. I won't say anything to your kids because you're right, you shouldn't be damned by the actions of hormones and alcohol. It doesn't absolve you. I won't. However, I am in no place to punish you. But, push me, make yourself a threat to me, and I will. I will rain the might of God on your head. Mark my words."

She began to leave again, holding her thoughts together with a long string of oblivion when he spoke to her in parting.

"I'm glad you healed after what happened." He couldn't so much as call it what it was.

She wanted to leave this past behind her, but it had a face again and a name, it had a presence.

"I never healed. I hid and I drank but I never healed. I simply coasted on a pulse until something worth experiencing came along. That something was my husband. He saved me from the first and greatest loss I've ever experienced." She hesitated to speak that truth tripping on the tip of her tongue. It came on its own, slipping softly by. "Our daughter."

She did flee then, not heeding the smothering silence that followed like a chain reaction or the hasty steps that clamored at her back.

"Tracy, wait!"

She didn't. She kept going and made for home.


End file.
